Colony 2: Beach
by DarkBeta
Summary: Who ELSE would you take with you to a desert island, eh?
1. It Will Happen on a Holiday

Colony: Beach I, by DarkBeta

(I have no rights to MacGyver, the show or its characters. Nevertheless i'm taking them out to play . . . a long, long way from home. This first chapter is a boring list of names and relations. If you can slog thru it, i think the next one will be better. [kowtows abjectly])

**[Los Angeles CA, midsummer, 1992]**

The barbecue at Pete's place was supposed to be a celebration. The Phoenix Foundation was kicking Pete Thornton a little farther upstairs. The guest list made it more of a "This Is Your Life, MacGyver" episode. Sam eavesdropped shamelessly. His newfound father was distressingly terse about the years Sam hadn't known him.

"I did some jobs for Pete, and got mixed up in other stuff a couple times. Nothing interesting," was all he'd admit to.

Mac's friend Jack Dalton, who'd run into them in Zaire (literally), had a lot more stories. They all ended with Jack dragging Mac out of some dangerous or embarassing predicament. Jack's left eye twitched like a castanet throughout. Sam had some doubts of his worth as an informant.

Penny Parker bubbled so much about her latest acting role ("Third Laundromat Girl") that Sam couldn't get her to reminisce. The boxer Earl Dent was equally happy over a protege's recent win. His daughter Veronica kept bringing him stuff he should eat, and taking away the stuff he shouldn't, and refilling his glass of juice.

In a quiet voice Mrs. Wilson laid down the law to the four teenagers who'd come with her, Breeze and Danyela and Solana and Raj. Pete Thornton argued quietly with his ex-wife Connie. Sam didn't want to get in the middle of either situation.

Willis, a Phoenix scientist, had staked out the tub of chilled drinks. He hadn't even stopped to drop the duffle bag slung across his back.

"Later," he said, waving Sam off. "I just flew back from three months on the Baja. I only got through by promising myself all the cold beer I could drink, and I'm not there yet."

Sam could tell Kate Murphy had some great stories, but she was chatting with Nikki, who might just be his stepmother some day. The situation made Nikki and Sam painfully polite together. She was good looking for an older woman, but too uptight. Sam didn't think he had exclusive rights to his father's time or anything, but still . . . he wanted to know Mac better before his father was distracted by a new family.

Nikki was the only person his father argued with. A lot. That had to mean something. Mac didn't argue or yell much, but somehow people ended up doing things the way he thought they should be done.

Willie Colton looked furtive as he put a hotdog on his plate. Sam watched the boy wrap it in a napkin, stick it in the pocket of his baggy pants, and reach for another one. A tall authoritative man saw where Sam was looking, and shrugged in resignation.

"Takes a while to forget the lessons you learn on the street," he said.

"Mac said he's only been here in the States for five months. Mr. Colton says he's doing great, considering."

"Mike Kiley, LAPD. This is my wife, Shirelle."

"Captain Michael Kiley," the blond on his arm corrected.

"Sam Malloy. Um. Mac's my dad."

"Really," Mike said.

Sam got that tone of voice a lot, from people who knew his dad didn't have any kids, and who noticed that 'Malloy' didn't sound much like 'MacGyver'.

"Dad brought the tahini dip over there, but everyone's been eating hamburgers instead. I'm going to demonstrate family loyalty and try it out. If I keel over from too much good nutrition, tell Dad I want a really cool tombstone."

He waved, turning toward the snack table and mentally kicking himself. Talk about obvious! Maybe he could have dropped the word 'Dad' into the conversation two or three more times, with a 'father' or two for variety, and let's not forget that other F word, 'family'!

Still, best to get it over with, so people weren't left guessing. As a journalist, Sam knew the extremes to which rumor rose. Sooner or later he'd meet everyone his father knew, and not have to go through that little scene any more.

Only, look at Mama Lorraine. Could anyone have predicted that the santeria owner was one of Mac's friends? Anybody might turn up next!

Frank Colton glowered at the horizon. His conversation was probably limited to curses right now. So far Jesse Colton hadn't managed to convince his son that they wouldn't run out of food. Billy, the youngest bounty hunter, answered a ringing cellphone before Sam reached him. So much for finding out what really happened with the rhinos in Africa.

The two Lisas looked interesting. Cute, and a lot closer to his age than his dad's. Their mutual glares were a turnoff though.

"I heard you can put together some stunning outfits, shopping at the thrift store," Lisa Woodman allowed. "Of course, you have to spend more than ten minutes at it."

"It's easy to stay in style when you throw out anything you've worn twice, and put the replacements on your father's credit card," Lisa Allen retorted. "How do you know a regular guy like Mac? Your chauffeur knocked him off his bike, and you convinced him not to sue?"

Woodman glowered at her.

"I got him out of a lake in Switzerland. He'd been shot. He could have died."

"He was dying when I met him. Poisoned. He couldn't remember who to call for help, and the bad guys were looking for him. If it hadn't been for my traps, they'd have caught him."

For the first time Sam wondered how much he really wanted to know about his father's past. What if something had happened to Mac back then and they'd never met? He stepped between the girls and kissed them, Allen first and then Woodman.

"Thank you for saving my Dad's life. I owe you!"

Allen swung at him. Woodman sniffed. Sam retreated, raising his hands placatingly. In a couple of steps the two girls were bickering too hard to see Sam's wave.

Mac's telescope was set up at the edge of the patio. Staring into the sky, he looked too boyish to be anyone's father. Maybe Sam should start claiming him as an older brother instead.

"So what was that about?"

An observant older brother.

"Nothing. Just an excuse to kiss a couple of pretty girls." Sam said. "Isn't it too early to be looking at the stars?"

Mac leaned over the eyepiece.

"The sky will be dark soon enough. You can see a couple planets already. Venus is by the horizon, and that's Jupiter."

"What's that other planet, the bright one up there?"

"Where? It can't be a planet."

"Yeah, I guess it has to be an airplane. It's moving in a weird zig-zag."

And getting bigger, as if it was headed toward them. Was the plane off-course, looking for a place to land?

"Pete, get everyone inside. Sam, come on!"

The light was overhead.

_A family of raccoons, foraging for uncooked hamburger, knocked over the brazier. The fire started by the scattered coals burned Pete Thornton's house. The party-goers were assumed to be dead, in spite of the lack of cremains._

"_Murdock," the more knowledgeable suggested._

_The loss of two activist directors nudged the Phoenix Foundation back toward its original role as a "think-tank". It drifted into obscurity._


	2. Waking Up Blind

Colony 2: Beach, Chapter 2, by DarkBeta

**[Beach, Morning of Day One]**

Pete could see the red glow of sunlight through his closed lids. He forced his eyes open, blinking as the glare made them water. Blue overhead, and blue out there, and yellow here. A mound beside him that looked like a body. He thought it was Connie, but he wasn't sure until he'd felt her face and touched the familiar tousled hair. He couldn't forget the way she smelled. He heard surf and the shriek of gulls, felt the grit of sand under his side. He'd had to close his eyes before he could be sure of what he saw.

Useless rage. Useless regret. He fought them down as he felt for Connie's pulse and counted her breaths. Both were slow and steady. He couldn't find any bleeding or trauma either. She'd lost more weight. She worried too much, worried about Michael, maybe even worried a little about him still. She must have gone through hell every time the DXS sent him out. He hadn't known until it was too late.

They'd been at his place in the hills, and now they were lying on the beach. He couldn't quite remember what came in between. Lights and floating. He'd been alone for a while, but if Connie was here, maybe some of the others were too. Five years ago he'd have gone looking for them. Five years ago he'd have been able to look for them. All he could do now was hold his ex-wife and talk to her.

"Wake up, honey. Wake up. Everything's okay, take it easy, everything's fine."

Useless, in situations where once he'd been in charge.

"Ooh. We're on the beach. Hey, lover, want to make out?"

His arms tightened. Now that took him by surprise. Connie sounded a little dazed, a little drunk. She sounded like the college junior he'd dated. God it had been a long time since she'd been that young, back when he was too.

"Love to, honey. But why don't you check if the coast is clear, first."

He felt her crane around, and groan in disappointment.

"You're right. Too many other people out napping. Maybe we could go back in the dunes," she suggested, turning back to him.

He felt her hand on his cheek, and had to stop himself from nuzzling into it.

"Pete. You look so tired."

She stopped. He felt her stiffen. He let go even before she pulled away.

"We're not married anymore, are we?"

"No."

"I'm sorry! The way I was acting . . . . The things I said . . . !"

He hadn't minded. He wasn't fool enough to say so. He managed to grin at her.

"Don't worry about it. I know by now what you're like when you first wake up."

"Where are we? What happened?"

She stood up, looking around as if the landscape was as vague to her as it was to him. Pete got up too, brushing the sand off his slacks, though he wasn't sure he could do any more standing than he had sitting down. Maybe he should take up meditation the way MacGyver suggested. Spend all day sitting and concentrating on world peace or something. Be just as effective as what he was doing now, wouldn't it?

"What do you remember?"

"The party at your place. I'm glad Mac's back in the country. He's somebody you . . . rely on, I think."

"He's a good friend."

"You introduced everybody . . . . That's who all these other people are. Mac's over there by his telescope, um, about nine o'clock, and Ms. Carpenter is a little closer to the water than we are at two o'clock."

Pete let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

"Are their locations secure? Anyone close to the water?"

"We're all up above the tide line. I can't see any problems."

"Is anyone else awake?"

"Those two big men are up, Frank and . . . Willie?"

"Jesse. Willie is the boy."

"They're trying to wake the rest of their family. Are they really bounty hunters?"

"Very effective ones. Anyone else?"

"Mac's friend Dalton. He's sitting there looking hungover," she sniffed.

Nobody approved of Jack. Not that he ever earned approval, or seemed to want it.

"Whatever they hit us with, body weight makes a difference in how fast it wears off."

"So why am I awake?"

"You'd probably still be sleeping if I hadn't dragged you around and shouted in your ear."

Connie was quiet for a long minute. Was it too much to hope that she was remembering how she woke up? He was. It had felt good to hold her again.

"Let's go check on Ms. Carpenter," Connie suggested.

She turned around in front of him and paused. Pete put a hand on her shoulder, grateful for the unspoken offer. Because he couldn't have asked. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to ask for help. From a small handful of other people maybe, the ones he worked with, but not from Connie.

"What else do you remember?" he asked.

"We were having an argument . . . ."

"A discussion."

"You were maintaining at discussion. I was trying hard to upgrade to argument."

He could hear her smile.

"Anything else?"

"That's when everything stops. It doesn't start again until I woke up with you. We were kidnapped, right?"

"You don't remember being moved? Bright lights? Floating?"

"No. Uh-oh. Stay here a minute."

He was trying to focus on a blur that might be his fellow employee, and might be just a shadow, when Connie pulled away from him. He stayed because he didn't have any choice, hands fisted, straining his hearing for any hint that she was in trouble.

"It's okay now."

"What's okay?" he growled.

He didn't put a hand back on the shoulder she offered. She'd pulled away! He took a breath though, letting the anger seep out. Remember what the therapist said. He was angry at his blindness. That didn't give him the right to lash out at anyone else.

"Her dress, um, wasn't designed for the beach. She'd be embarassed if anyone saw her before I straightened it out."

She didn't say more, just stood waiting. He put his hand back on her shoulder and let her lead him again.

"Women!"

"Uh-huh. How come you're lucky enough to have rational people like us around, instead of just emotional, irrational males? Ms. Carpenter is still out of it. I wonder who she was trying to impress."

"What?"

"You don't wear a dress like that to a barbecue unless you want someone to notice."

He squatted down.

"Mac? I think this was the first time they've met outside the office since he got back. Help me pick her up, Connie. We're too vulnerable spread all over the beach."

"Are you sure about this? She's going to be heavy to carry."

"I'm blind. Not lame. Just tell me where I can put my hands, so I don't get slapped."

He could feel her tension as he swayed back to his feet. Nikki was a heavy load, but he'd been exercising harder for the past few months. Plenty of time for it, when you couldn't read, or watch television. Or work.

"Got her. Lead me over to the Coltons."

She held his elbow.

"Mac stayed on the other side of the patio from her the whole evening," She sighed.

"Maybe that was him, noticing."

"He has some problems with commitment."

"Him and his friend, just two kinds of coward?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

After a long silence, she sighed again.

"Sorry. Guess I'm still trying to upgrade to an argument."

They slogged the rest of the way across the beach without speaking.


	3. Intimations

Colony 2: Beach, Chapter 3, by DarkBeta

**[Beach, Afternoon of the First Day]**

Willie Colton was the last person to wake up. He leaned against his grandmother, still yawning. They sat in the shade of the sandstone bluffs, all in a loose circle except Jack Dalton. He'd stretched out nearby, and looked as if he'd fallen asleep again. Cynthia Wilson had gathered her charges for a moment of prayer.

"All right. Everyone's awake. So far as we can tell, no-one was injured. Whatever the kidnappers used, it's wearing off without residual effects. They didn't even bother to empty our wallets," Pete established, once they were done. "What now?"

"My watch stopped. Does anyone have the time?" Sam asked.

In a synchronized gesture, almost everyone reached for their timepiece. Pete snapped the watch crystal up, felt the rugged hands, and shook his head.

"Damn thing's supposed to be shockproof," Jesse Colton complained.

"Mine's shockproof, and waterproof down to a thousand feet. It went through a tsunami and never missed a second," Willis mourned.

"Mine stopped, but I wound it again and it seems to work," Mrs. Wilson said. "I don't know what time to set it to though."

"By the sun it's about ten a.m." Mac pointed out. "We've been unconscious ten or twelve hours at least. We could be almost anywhere."

"We can't be kidnapped," Veronica complained. "Dad and I have a full card at the ring tomorrow!"

Her father put an arm around her shoulders.

"Honey, it's not, you know, anybody from work?" Shirelle asked her husband.

"Don't worry, honey. None of the idiots we're dealing with right now have the imagination for this. Drive-by's are about as complicated as they get."

"Maybe somebody wanted us to have a great vacation," Penny Parker suggested. "This place is gorgeous!"

Kiley snorted. Jack waved a lazy hand in the air.

"When the waitress comes by, tell her I want a Mai-Tai."

"They did something to my cell phone," Billy said, snapping it shut. "All I get is static."

"We're out of the service area. This isn't the California coast. When was the last time you saw a beach this clean? In fact . . . ."

Ms. Carpenter hesitated. Pete turned in her direction.

"What is it, Nikki?"

"I can't say yet. I need to check out the shoreline, see what the evidence is."

Connie Thornton nodded.

"I've got a magnifying lens in my purse. I wish I'd brought a sample kit though."

"To a party?" Lisa Woodman whispered to Sam.

He shrugged, watching his father. Willis lifted his duffle.

"I've got one. If the samples say we're back in the Baja though, you've got my vote for this whole thing being a nightmare."

"We've got to keep an eye out, see if the kidnappers come back. I'm heading up onto the bluffs."

Frank Colton stood up. Across the circle Lieutenant Murphy rose too.

"Good thinking. I'll come along."

"Jesse'll come. Don't need you tagging after . . . ." Frank started.

"I'll go. The grapevine says you're still an outpatient, Murphy. And I outrank you."

Kate glared at Kiley.

"I finished occupational therapy and got a clean bill of health. Sir. We can't send the civilians out on their own."

"Thank you anyhow, but us 'civilians' don't need any nosy cops," Jesse said, but Kiley spoke across him.

"All of three months ago. And I still outrank you."

As she glowered, Jesse ignored the police the way they'd ignored Frank.

"Maybe we can spot a boat. Billy, you stay here with Ma."

"Hey, wait a minute . . . ."

Ma Colton patted her capacious purse.

"You go on, boys. I'll keep an eye on Willie."

"Three people should be enough of a lookout. We need somebody else to look for shelter above the tide line," Pete suggested. "Billy, would you be willing to check out the base of the cliffs with Lieutenant Murphy?"

Shirelle Kiley raised her hand.

"I'll go too, okay? Gotta do my bit."

"I've got fishing line and some hooks," Lisa Allen said, pulling a plastic box from her tote bag. "Might as well try 'em out."

"Any chewing gum in there?" Mac asked.

Grinning, she held up a packet. He grinned back.

"She brought fishing line? To a party?" Woodman hissed.

She frowned as if she'd just realized she'd fallen among savages.

"So, what's in your purse?" Sam whispered back.

"Lipstick, compact, and cab fare, mostly."

Sam raised his voice.

"Lisa, uh, Lisa W. says she has a mirror. Maybe she can watch for airplanes, and try to signal them."

"Good! I doubt we're on any of the jet routes, but that means anything you spot will be low enough to notice us," Mac said.

Woodman looked about to protest, but she subsided. Earl Dent waved a huge hand in the air.

"Uh, whaddaya want me to do?"

"You stay here on the beach," Mama Colton stated. "Any trouble comes up, you look big enough to handle it. And your little girl can play in the water."

"I'm not a little girl. I'm Dad's business manager," Veronica insisted.

Mrs. Wilson bent a look of concentrated instruction on her charges. Breeze gave her a hunted look.

"Uh, it's not like we done it before or anything, but maybe we can help with the samples?"

Lisa A. looked considering.

"I've got plenty of line, and an extra hook. You guys want to learn how to fish? You never know when it'll come in handy."

"Me, I will speak with the loa," Mama Lorraine announced. "Ask them to show us the way home."

Cynthia Wilson went indignantly stiff.

"Thank you. We need all the help we can get," Mac said. "I think I'll check along the beach. Try to spot a wharf, or fresh water, or whatever. Pete, you want to come along?"

Jack yawned and sat up.

"I'll head the other direction, then. Might as well cover all bases."

He got to his feet. Mac did too.

"Right. Sam, can you go with him? This place looks safe enough, but we don't know our way around yet. We'll meet back here in, uh . . . ."

He looked at his useless watch.

"Well, sometime around noon. Everybody, buddy up. Don't go off by yourselves, okay? This place could be more dangerous than it looks."

oooooooo

Mac mapped the beach as he walked. Dry grass -- might be good tinder. Driftwood. That ground cover -- were the stems strong enough to use as binding? He'd made sure the Swiss Army knife was still in his pocket, but if they needed more sharp edges the broken shells might do. Chunks of sandstone had fallen from the bluffs. Might make a windbreak. Were they dry enough for a fire ring?

No tins, or broken bottles, or washed up plastic. He never thought he'd miss the presence of litter.

"Are they going to be all right?" Pete asked, looking toward the sound of the surf.

Behind them Cynthia Wilson and Mama Colton presided over a pile of abandoned shoes and nylons. Willis, Connie and Nikki were wading knee-deep (and sometimes waist-deep) in the surf. A few dozen yards away Lisa A. showed Breeze and Solana how to cast out their lines. She'd found straight branches in the sea-wrack for poles. Veronica jumped in and out of the waves. Giggling, Penny joined her. Lisa W. stood above them on the beach, watching the sky when she wasn't playing tag with the edge of the surf.

Mac shrugged.

"You can't strand oceanographic researchers on a beach and expect them to stay dry. Or kids."

Somebody shrieked with laughter. He thought it was Connie. From Pete's grin, he thought so too.

"Yeah? Which ones are the kids?"

"Not us, anymore."

Pete raised an eyebrow at that.

"Forty hitting back, already?"

Oops. He hadn't meant to sound down. Time to change the subject.

"Some of the wood out there hasn't been in the sea long. If it washed down from the mountains, we could be near a river mouth."

"You think there might be people? A harbor?"

"I'm hoping for fresh water. Those bluffs look dry."

Pete swallowed.

"I wish you hadn't said that. A minute ago I wasn't thirsty."

"We'll manage."

One way or another. Solar stills? They might not have enough plastic. Look for a seep, maybe. If the watercourse was dry, they could try digging into its bed. He'd have to ask the Colton brothers what kind of vegetation they'd seen. Maybe take a look up there himself.

"Do you remember anything about the kidnapping?" Pete asked.

"No. Do you?"

"I don't think so. Bright lights, and floating, and weird smells. Drug reactions, I guess. Not memories."

"I dreamt some salesman I met in the midwest said he had a special offer. He traveled in vacuums. Weird, huh?"

Pete stumbled on a half-buried strand of kelp, like a snare in the sand. Mac steadied his friend.

"Sorry. I should have seen that."

"You should have brought someone else. I'm useless if we run into trouble."

Mac started forward again. Maybe he'd been selfish, dragging Pete with him. And it was hard to explain why he did it. Harry's instructions to a young man on what to do had always been clear. What you felt wasn't as well addressed.

"I worked a long time with you," he said, finally. "I trust you in an emergency."

"That's a mistake."

"I don't think so."


	4. Darkness Falls

**Colony 2: Beach 4****, by DarkBeta**

**(Beach, Night of the First Day)**

Mac said the estuary was a sea of reeds, higher than their heads and swarming with waterfowl. They worked their way along to the edge of the basin and then followed a channel upstream until it ran relatively clear. Hollowing reeds to carry back the water in took a while. Pete did it by touch, though he spoilt more than he produced at first, while Mac gathered armfuls of the raw material.

They made camp in a sandstone alcove. He listened to the others pile up stone and sand to make a windbreak, and gather enough driftwood to keep the fire going all night. He couldn't help. The large screen reader and dictation machines were back in Los Angeles. He had no way to go on working.

They broiled clams and fish wrapped in seaweed, and reheated a stash of cold sausages the boy Willie had pocketed. Connie handed the meal to him, letting it cool a bit so he wouldn't fumble as he ate. Pete felt about four years old.

When they were warm and fed and pleasantly tired, Mac said, "People, we need to make some decisions here."

"No. No talking. Time enough for that tomorrow, after we sleep."

That was Mac's friend Dalton. He yawned.

"The littoral is too clean," Nikki insisted. "No plastic, no styrofoam, no oil."

"So? They have a good beach patrol here," one of the Coltons -- Billy? -- argued.

"You don't understand. In the past several decades, oceanic dumping has contaminated every coastline. Pristine beaches don't exist anywhere. Anywhere in the world."

"Huh? You just said this beach . . . ."

Earl Dent's deep voice was unmistakable.

"She's right," Connie interrupted from beside Pete. "The mix of species is skewed, too. Egg cases of very rare sharks, larval forms of species that used to be endemic and now survive in isolated habitats . . . ."

"Breeze and Danyela and I caught a lot of fish. A lot more than I thought we would, just fishing from the beach. Does that mean anything?" Lisa A. said.

Time for his own contribution.

"The birds in the estuary were hard to startle. They hadn't been hunted. And the ones that kept flying down and grabbing Mac's hair . . . ."

". . . just wanted nesting material," Mac said, sounding embarassed.

"Good thing you lost that rug you used to wear," Connie whispered to Pete.

"Thanks. A lot."

She gurgled. He hadn't heard that sound for so long. He used to work for it, whispering jokes when she was trying to be sober and attentive . . . .

"You're saying we're in a preserve or something."

That deep voice was another Colton. Frank.

"No, I . . . ." Nikki started.

Mac interrupted. Which was enough out of character that Pete would have been alarmed even without the dazed disbelief in his friend's voice.

"I didn't even look. I didn't look up."

Cloth shifted as everyone but Pete leaned back and looked up.

"What?" Lisa W. asked. "I don't see anything except stars."

"The wrong stars," Nikki said. "Right, Mac?"

"Telescope. I have to get the telescope set up."

Pete wouldn't have thought it possible for MacGyver to be so nearly clumsy. The tube must have slipped in his hands. Grabbing for it made a slapping sound.

"Mac? What's wrong?" Sam asked.

Was it better or worse for Mac, that his newfound son was caught up in this situation with him? What was Michael doing right now? Did he know yet that his father and mother were missing?

"Yeah, Nikki," Mac told the Phoenix researcher, after a long pause. "From what I can see . . . they're the wrong stars."

"Bull puckey!" Frank Colton said. "You think we'll believe a story like that just cause you dress it up in a lot of science mumbo-jumbo? Whatever you're trying to pull, it won't work!"

"I'm not sure I understand . . . ."

Mrs. Wilson sounded uncertain. Mike Kiley didn't.

"He's saying we're not on Earth. Right, MacGyver? I always knew you had a screw loose."

"It is . . . an unlikely story."

"But the ocean samples . . . ." Nikki started.

Connie and Willis were weighing in with their own specialties before she finished her sentence. Pete couldn't keep track of anything but random phrases.

". . . variability of species . . . chemical signatures . . . Neolithic ecological impact . . . ."

". . . load of nonsense . . . not true . . . crazy man . . . some kind of con . . . going home!"

"You can't argue with the night sky!" Sam insisted.

"I can argue with whoever I want, you little . . . ."

Somebody was crying. Mac really didn't know how to handle group dynamics. Pete pitched his voice to cut across the argument.

"You're right."

Agreement surprised Frank Colton enough to make him pause.

"Everyone, sit down and talk sensibly," his mother barked. "I didn't raise a lot of howling savages."

A laugh from one of the teenagers cut off abruptly. Probably Frank had glared at him. The distraction was useful. Pete spoke into comparative silence.

"You're right. They can't prove we're on . . . ." He coughed, and went on gamely. "On another planet. Not to me. I can't see any of the evidence they're talking about. I'm no scientist. I probably wouldn't understand it anyway. I can say that I trust these people, and I don't think they'd lie about this to me, or to anyone. Most of them work for me though, so I have to say that."

"Used to work for you," Mac put in.

"Does cleaning up after you count?" Connie added.

"All right. Some of them work for me. The point is, it doesn't matter."

A dozen people started to talk at once, and shut up simultaneously as they realized they wouldn't be heard. Pete continued.

"Nobody spotted any hotels or grocery stores out there, did they? We need to eat. We need to make sure nothing else eats us. And sleeping on the beach is all right for a while, but we need to find shelter before the weather changes. Let's concentrate on that, and save the argument for later."

"You hear that, boys? Somebody's talking sense," Mama Colton said. "Willie needs taking care of. Don't think anything's much more important than that."

"We've got lots of fish," Lisa A. offered.

"Shellfish too. Mussels and clams, and crabs. I haven't seen any signs of pfisteria, um, red tide," Nikki added. "Don't go after anything you don't recognize. A lot of marine species are poisonous."

"The birds are migrating," Willis said. "We can snare them, or hunt with slings."

Pete didn't have to see to know Mac was wincing.

"Sea vegetables are very nutritious," the younger man suggested.

"Yuk! Seaweed!" Lisa W. groaned.


	5. Reaction

**Colony 2, Chapter 5: Reaction**

**Beach, Morning of the Second Day**

Dawn was a narrow light out over the sea. The stars overhead were still distinct.

"I thought the sun would be up by now," Mac told Connie quietly. "Nearly fourteen hours since sunset, according to Mrs. Wilson's watch. This world's rotational period has to be longer than twenty-four hours."

"With an extreme axial tilt we could be at a higher latitude."

"Lands of the midnight sun, and the sunless day? Maybe. The weather's temperate. If we're this warm close to a pole, I don't want to see the equator."

"Or maybe Mrs. Wilson's watch is running fast."

"That's the simplest explanation. I'll make a sundial tomorrow, and see what I can figure out."

She shrugged, her eyes fixed on the white stripes of surf as they ran in toward the beach. Mac felt the silence pushing him to babble.

"The surf moved up the beach. Nikki did a count of mussels and so on where the rocks go down to the water, and confirmed a tidal surge. We know there's a major satellite up there, even if we haven't seen it yet."

"Stop talking about how we're on another planet!"

Her voice was shrill and loud. Pete's rasping snore ended with a snort. Mac and Connie both froze, looking back at the sand hollows about the banked fire where the others slept.

After a long moment the snore started up again, a little less noisily.

"I'm sorry," Mac said, after several minutes.

"Right now I just want to pretend that the sea out there is our sea, and that's our sun rising. I know you think I'm being silly. Pete would," she added thickly. "You and Nikki and Pete, it's like you're all Vulcans or something. The evidence says we're not on Earth, so we're not on Earth. You're all so calm about it."

"If I look calm, poised and in control . . . it's a darn good make-up job."

That surprised Connie into a damp laugh. Mac went on, staring up at the few strands of cloud in the paling grey sky. The quiet, Connie's need for reassurance, knowing they were the only two people awake, and even the fact that he hadn't met Pete's ex-wife very often, made talking easier.

"I hated it when Harry -- my grampa -- didn't react to stuff going wrong. I thought he didn't care. Once I yelled at him about it, and he said he was too busy trying to find a way out to start wailing. Maybe I learned from his example, a little too well. Or maybe I'm just putting off my turn. Tell you what. Mid-day two days from now, I get to panic and you get to shake your head and tell me to relax."

"That's just what Pete always does to me. It's a deal."

Only a few bright stars were still visible. Mac thought one of them was a planet. Without their reminder, believing that this was Earth's sea and Earth's sky was easy. Tiny pale crabs skittered across the damp sand. Bouillabaisse, with clean mussel shells for spoons, if he could figure out something to use as a pan. Maybe he could lean on Jack to help him build a weir at the river mouth.

"You're not silly," he said. "I don't think that. I remember when you and Michael were kidnapped. And when Pete's eyes went bad, and you came out to help him even though the divorce was years ago."

She shrugged uncomfortably. This world's sun made the edges of the high clouds incandescent. The horizon was washed with pale lavender that flushed into pink. A section of it was almost too bright to look at, though they couldn't see any part of the sun's disk.

Mac covered a yawn. His body was still nagging for more sleep. He'd been on enough early fishing trips to know that in twenty minutes or so he'd be resigned to staying awake. Overhead an early gull brayed.

"Sunrise makes me so angry now."

"Why?"

"Pete and I went fishing a couple times, back when we were first married. I hated it. Once Michael was born, I used him as an excuse to send Pete out by himself. But a couple mornings, when he got me out of the tent early and the sky was like this . . . . After the divorce he didn't have me or Michael any more, he didn't have family, but I thought he had the things he really wanted. Only he doesn't. It isn't right. A whole new world to explore, and he can't see it."

"No. It isn't. But I think Pete's okay with the . . . with his blindness. Most of the time."

"It still kills him to ask for help."

"He's not pushing people away the way he did at the beginning. Is he?"

"He's better about that."

The sun surged over the horizon. A few minutes later Connie looked down at the borrowed watch.

"Eight minutes past nine. The night was about three hours too long."

Mac yawned again, and she yawned too.

"It felt even longer," he admitted.

"Time for me to wake up your friend, and try to pretend I can go back to sleep." She arched her back and groaned. "Sleeping on the ground . . . now I remember why I hated those fishing trips."

Mac scrambled to his feet to offer her a hand up. Before she let go, Connie gave him an aunt-like peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, MacGyver. Pete's lucky he has you for a friend."

Which left him mute until after she lay down with the others. The sunrise had settled into day. Mac watched the ocean, not knowing if he should expect sea serpents or dragonboats.


	6. Recourse

**Colony 2: Beach, Chapter 6****, by DarkBeta**

**(About Noon, Second Day)**

In the encampment, shaded under the cliffs, Mrs. Wilson, Mama Colton and Mrs. Kiley made mats and baskets from the gathered reeds. Nearby Sam worked desultorily on some kind of hutch, listening to Pete. Uneasily Mac realized he was probably the topic of conversation. Still, at least Pete didn't feel like he'd been sent off like an old woman.

Nikki, Connie and Willis waded in the surf again. Kiley, Dent and the Coltons had trekked out along the cliffs, and Jack had disappeared. He was probably asleep. The younger people orbited among the groups, depending on the extent of their interest or their hosts' patience. The only solitary figure was Mama Lorraine.

Mac had never thought of her as either young or old. Age didn't seem applicable. She looked old now, hunched on the driftwood log with her bright shawl drawn up around her shoulders like a grandmother's.

"Is this bench taken?" he asked.

She didn't react. He sat down anyhow, staring out at the blue ocean with her.

"The loa are silent. They do not speak," she said, finally.

He'd walked over here with a whole list of platitudes ready, from 'don't worry' down to 'we'll be fine'. None of them were apposite to a voudon's religious crisis.

"Uh, I don't know much about loas . . . ." he started.

Mama Lorraine snorted, expressing his total ignorance in a puff of sound.

"They aren't all the same in different places, right? Maybe there are different loa here."

"The loa are everywhere."

"Then do they have different shapes? Maybe you don't recognize them." Mac gestured vaguely, trying to think inside an alien worldview. "Maybe they don't recognize you."

"Why do you argue? You do not believe. Or if you do, it is in the solitary god, like those women."

"Um, I guess I believe . . . that whatever I believe in isn't the whole truth. Your belief is important because it's another slice of the truth."

She cocked her head, looking mildly flirtatious.

"And what is your slice, MacGyver?"

"Looking for the way things work, I guess. The way different things fit together. And trying to keep them together."

Mama Lorrain nodded in decision.

"As the loa do. You are right. I would be foolish to give up so easily."

She started up the beach. Mrs. Wilson watched her walk, and nodded stiffly as she passed the camp.

She was going to look for the loa? The rest of them needed to look for something better too. The stream, fed by snowmelt from the mountains inland, was their only source of fresh water. Mac had taken a look at the range through his telescope. The peaks weren't high enough to keep the snow all year round.

In a month or two the spring floods would be gone. The flocks would fly on north-ward. (Well, pole-ward, anyhow.) The river would dwindle to bitter mud, if it didn't dry altogether.

Even if they found reliable aquifers, the desert was unforgiving. Willie was at risk here. So were Breeze and his friends, Veronica, Penny, and the Lisas. And Pete. No, they had to be ready to move, cover enough territory to reach some place more temperate, and do it safely. A few hundred miles, maybe more.

They might have to do it on foot, but the shape of some of the driftwood logs teased at his imagination. The Polynesians could travel a thousand miles of open ocean, in hollowed logs . . . .

_(As Mama Lorraine put it, "Voudon is my religion. *That* was Saturday morning cartoons!" Writing this, it was my intention to be as respectful of this religion as any other. However I didn't want my lack of belief to keep me from writing about some great characters. Please be as tolerant as you can about my inevitable errors!)_


End file.
